[ A Beauty & the Beast retelling ] Anyone can ask for a favor from Fortune 500 pharmaceutical heiress, Camille Delacourt―who has the city of New York wrapped around her perfectly manicured fingers and rules it with an iron fist. Dealing out social ruin and favors in equal measure; every request comes at a cost, and once done, you'll forever be in her debt. But when a seemingly crude Italian business mogul who claims he is looking to expand into American markets arrives with a proposition that she can't turn down, things take a sudden twist. Because there's always room to fall, and all is fair in love and war.
View MoreLater he would marvel at the fact that his heart hadn’t broken out of his chest to try and make a run for one of the windows, though it in no way beat his surprise at the subconscious decision he’d made to lie about his identity, so that he replied without hesitation,Gianni Moretti, as soon as the time came to introduce himself.Gianni because it was the first thing that came to mind when he thought o
Two things stood out to Camille as soon as the bespectacled man stepped into her office.The first was the sheer bulk of him, so that she’d initially thought he was a particularly well-dressed bodyguard, at least until he started to amble forward without hesitation, his gaze leveled steadily on hers in an unspoken challenge that seemed set on daring her to say otherwise—which led to the second thing she noticed abou
For all that he ate like a man who knew it was his last day alive and moved through the world with a slickness that left Nico feeling no small amount of discomfort, his sister-in-law’s belief in Jack Murchison did not go unfounded as the man not only looked into the claims on Camille Delacourt (which proved correct in the end), but took things a step further by pulling on a few strings, which is how barely a week after his conversation with Aria, the CEO of De Rossi Inc. found himself seated in the lobby ofBon Vivant Media, his feet tapping a steady, nervous rhythm into the tile-lined marble floors of the establishment.
Resplendently beautiful in the way only wild things are, with hair so red it looked like it must’ve been dyed even as it was lightened by age, Solange Delacourt could be charming when she wanted to be.An astute manipulator, she fell under that one percent of the population seemingly born with an inherent recognition of the fact that if you did not learn to bend, you would break. One had to be adaptable if they want
From somewhere in the house Luciana started to cry and Aria looked stunned, face devoid of anything even as her wide eyes took him in disbelievingly.“You’re joking.”
He noticed the self-satisfied grin she wore as soon as her face appeared on his MacBook screen; and later he would think of how that should’ve clued him in.“Hey Ari—”
Itwasthe woman from the café, the same one who’d spilt her hot coffee on him when he went after her, Nico admitted finally to himself as he settled into the settee, repositioning himself until he was comfortable before pulling the laptop off the coffee table and onto his thigh; a younger, more naïve-looking version of her perhaps, but her alright.The same big blue eyes in a wickedly magnificent
The deserted sidewalks she’d jogged on only that morning were now packed with pedestrians, corporate types and students on their way to another day of drudgery, depending on what their faces, pinched or otherwise indicated. As Camille joined the masses, becoming just another faceless stranger in the crush of bodies, she pondered on a Machiavelli quote she sometimes turned to when she did not want to think about work, or family, or anything really.
Camille inhaled sharply as she moved in her sleep to stretch out her abused muscles, and all at once she was pulled out of unconsciousness and into a state of artificially heightened alertness that allowed her to take in the room as soon as she opened her eyes, identifying things as soon as they registered.It was still dark outside, and a quick glance at the digital clock by Milo’s side of the bed informed her that it was four in the morning. She’d been asleep for less than three hours, and at this other details began to trickle in as a rather light-headed sense of well-bei
And if the devil were to see you, he would kiss your eyes and repent.—Farouq Gouida...
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